Sometimes we just need a change

A quick trip to Mallorca, plus books, books and more books!

Hello!!! Have you missed me? I hope so :) I’ve missed writing to you and hearing from you in response. It’s been a bit of an adjustment living in the countryside, where I have moved when I returned in December. I love the experience, don’t get me wrong. The home is owned by two friends who have been so welcoming and kind to me, and the house itself is so wonderful with a gorgeous kitchen. Plus it’s only a five-minute drive from Ciutadella, where I was living before, even though it feels a world away as it’s so quiet and rural.

I wake up to birds singing and the soft, early morning light flowing into my room through sliding glass doors that look out on greenery. The night sky is bright and full of stars. Most mornings, I pick a lemon from the tree in the front of the house, and immediately bring it to my nose to inhale deeply: the scent is the purest lemon essence I have ever smelled. It is like bright lemony sunshine. Cutting it open for my morning lemon water feels like a joke as it’s so perfectly perfect inside. It’s idyllic. Except that it’s also not. 

The lemon tree and lemons for making preserved lemons!

What I wrote in my journal almost every morning for the first month was, I’m just so cold. It’s the kind of cold where any skin exposed from the bed covers feels almost like it’s burning from the chill. My glass of water feels like ice to the touch, and I wear so many layers of clothing that sometimes I forget what my skin looks like. About a month after being here, in the shower, which I can only do in the middle of the day when it’s warm, I looked down and thought, does this skin belong to me? I hadn’t seen my bare skin in so long that I forgot what it looked like. 

I don’t know quite how to explain it as the temperatures are actually not that cold. Days are anywhere from 13 to 20 (so like 50s to 70s-ish), with the sun being glorious and warm, enough to make me brave the cold waters and go in for a dip. And temperatures don’t drop much either at night. But there’s a wet, damp humidity that’s very different from summer humidity. One that you can’t shake. I can’t pretend to understand it. And it’s not their house that’s the problem, so I don’t want to sound ungrateful as I am very lucky to be living here, but it seems to be island wide. And a topic of conversation when we get together.

When people here warned me that the winter is so cold because it gets into your bones, I laughed them off. I grew up in Boston, went to college in Ithaca (that was cold!) and lived in NYC. I knew what cold was. 

But they were right. 

At least in those other places, when you go inside, you feel warm. I never feel warm here. Unless it’s midday and I’m under the sun. Sometimes when I’m writing or working indoors, I have to take a break to stand in the sunshine to warm up my cold fingers and toes. I have suspicions that many houses aren’t insulated from the cold, but I don’t fully understand it. Underfloor heating is a new goal of mine.

the fire and new neighbors

Every afternoon before the sun goes down, I build a fire or it will be very, very cold at night. Some do this for aesthetics by simply turning a switch, but, here, we do it for warmth. Or, on rainy or cloudy days, I build it in the morning and keep it going all day. And part of that ritual I love. The cleaning of the fireplace, going out to collect firewood, all which also must be done during daylight hours for the sake of warmth.

The house, while connected to the grid, has solar panels, so I also try to do many tasks during daylight hours to use the sun’s energy: laundry, the dishwasher or putting on the dehumidifier to try and suck out some of the humidity. In some ways, it makes me feel useful and more connected and conscious of the life I’m living and how much energy I am using. 

After a month or so, I started to learn the rhythms and what I needed to do to stay warm, or as warm as I would be able to be and have my nightly routine: I turn the heater on an hour before I go to bed, put hot water bottles under the covers and cuddle with them all night. Thick socks and extra sweaters are always by the bed to immediately put on when I get up. I don’t like sleeping with heat on as it makes noise even in quiet mode, which is amplified here because it’s so quiet, but there’s not much I can do about that to avoid the burning skin feeling. 

All of this is to say that I escaped to Palma, a short 30-minute flight away on the neighboring island, for a couple of nights to feel warm. And to eat different food. I’m embarrassed, and also not, to say that other than almonds, I did not eat anything ‘typically’ Mallorcan while there.

Last September, a friend told me as we were on the way to try a new Mexican place that was the talk of the island, that you eventually tire of the local cuisine and crave something different. In my head I thought, how could I ever tire of eating these sweet, tender shrimp that only need a sprinkle of salt? Or, meaty green olives bathing in paprika-tinted brine? Snacking on crunchy, salty chips with a small draft beer? No, not possible. 

Mallorcan almonds and the Swedish bakery (it was too hard to choose!)

Fast forward a year and a half later in Palma, and there I was, eating dim sum, ramen, Swedish cinnamon buns (and a chocolate-pistachio one, too), braised pork cheeks with carrots, and a spinach salad with turmeric hummus and crunchy pickled red cabbage–need to incorporate that in a recipe somewhere!—and cacao-laced porridge with berry compote for my final breakfast (plus a chocolate croissant). I wanted anything but Balaeric/Spanish cuisine. I will go back and explore, I promise, but I just couldn’t do it. 

The highlight of my trip though was when I passed by an English bookstore called Come In. Something that I didn’t properly think through before moving here was how would I have access to English books without ordering on Amazon (I just can’t do that for books). I thought I would ask Daunt or the sweet bookshop in Brighton’s Kemptown to send me books, but then I realized I would have to pay a hefty customs tax on top of shipping because England was no longer part of the EU. 

Up until last fall, I had enough travel and trips to lug five or six books from England or America back with me but, when they ran out, I tried to brainstorm what to do, and, in a flash of inspiration, I remembered Shakespeare and Company in Paris! It has been a lovely experience, and, I think in a good way, it’s taught me patience because it tends to take anywhere from 10 days to two weeks for the books to arrive, so I now know that I need to order when I am down to three or four books to ensure a steady supply. 

That was until I moved to the countryside and learned that many delivery places a) cannot find the address unless they have the map coordinates b) do not like delivering to rural areas. My box of books never left Ibiza and got sent back to Paris, so I had to have them sent back again to my friend’s house instead. This left me without books to read, which made me feel panicky. 

During this dire time of no books, my friend Bettina and I swapped some, and she gave me a copy of Polly Samson’s A Theatre for Dreamers, which is a fictional story based on real characters on the Greek island of Hydra, inspired by Charmian Clift books, Peel Me a Lotus, which I just ordered in my last batch. It’s a light and easy read, though I read it before reading anything about it, and it took me a minute to realize it was that Leonard Cohen the book was talking about (yes, embarrassing). It’s set in the 1960s and describes what it is like living on an island as foreigners, particularly this eclectic group of people.

While the time frame and my life circumstances are very different—I have a working toilet and running water, and so on—there were some moments of, oh yes, I too have experienced some of these challenges living on a small island.

My suitcase: books and snacks. Plus my cute hotel

Back in Mallorca, I bought eight lovely books, stuffing my suitcase with them as I hadn’t brought much with me, met some wonderful people and learned that they too will deliver books to Menorca. I just started reading The Paris Novel by Ruth Reichl, which so far is a happy read full of her beautiful descriptions of food—and imagine my delight when a chunk of the book is set in Shakespeare and Company!

It also mentions the Tumbleweed program, something that they offer to writers, which, coincidentally, I had sent to my friend Sally last year as I thought it would be perfect for her. They offer writers a home in the bookshop in exchange for some help around the store (everyone I have spoken there with has been extremely nice). Such a thoughtful thing to do, I thought. And what a cool experience!  

And, while I enjoyed Palma (and the feeling of being warm again), I was very happy to return to Menorca with its quiet nature, even if I’m again layered in clothes as the sun begins to dip. I am enjoying the winter despite my complaints, it’s very, very quiet, with a lot of restaurants closed for the season and vacation, but I am liking that slow pace, and it’s been a nice way to spend quality time with friends who are here as it feels like everyone is moving a bit slower, too. 

I hope you’ve been well, are staying warm and happy wherever you are, no matter what this year has thrown at you. If there are any other books that you love or have read recently, please please send them my way! I find it hard to shop for books online, so I am always open to recommendations.

I leave you with a recent NYT Salmon with Avocado and Cilantro Salad (gift link here) that is easy, bright and full of color. 

And, in case anyone knows someone in Los Angeles who is looking for a new location for their business, my sister and her husband are looking for someone to take over their space in Venice. It’s on Main street, around the corner from Gjusta, and they’ve done such a beautiful job with it. Fun Fact: It’s where we shot some of my last cookbook. It can be used for a lot of different purposes, they used it as a cooking and event space with a retail shop in the front (it was previously an eyebrow salon).

I’m selfishly very invested in them finding someone because if they do, then they will come visit me in the spring, and I am aching to see my sweet niece. Please spread the word if you can and thank you so much for your help!!